


Winter's Tide

by IcamaneHatake



Category: Stardew Valley (Video Game)
Genre: Anxiety, Awkward Flirting, Background Marnie, Bouquets, Confessions, Domestic Fluff, F/M, Snowstorms, The Elliott fandom still needs more love, Winter, no beta we die like men
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-24
Updated: 2021-01-24
Packaged: 2021-03-15 21:42:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,528
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28945347
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IcamaneHatake/pseuds/IcamaneHatake
Summary: In which the Farmer is struck by random bravery and Elliott was too busy getting his book published to actually prepare for winter in the valley.
Relationships: Elliott/Female Player (Stardew Valley)
Comments: 10
Kudos: 86





	Winter's Tide

**Author's Note:**

> I started a new farm and went to go give Elliott a bouquet on a very snowy day, he gave me his sad boy dialogue, then oops, I wrote a fic.

“What the fuck am I even doing,” she muttered, clutching tight to the basket that was in her arms. Frozen sand crunched under her heavy winter boots as she took the path down from Pelican Town towards the beach. The hand not caught in a death grip around the woven cane handle was fiddling with the scarf she had wrapped over her precious cargo, keeping the light snowfall off of the delicate flowers. 

Some combination of bravery and being fed up over being anxious had seized her today, so after she had finished tending to the cows and chickens, Gwen had changed into a clean sweater and jeans, bundled up, and walked to town. Pierre had seemed a bit shocked, and then smug, when he sold her the bouquet, but didn’t make a comment otherwise. Gwen was just glad he somehow had one in the dead of winter. Her mind was working in small, single tasks up until she found herself on the snow covered beach, face whipped red by the freezing, salty wind. Only there did she stop in her tracks, realizing exactly what she was doing when she saw Elliott’s cabin just down the beach, soft light dancing on the sand from his window. 

This was such an idiotic idea. Surely she was just bored and lonely from the cold winter on the farm, no one to keep her company except her animals. She had tried to keep herself busy with mining on lucky days, fishing on clear ones, but the biting cold and frequent storms kept her inside much more than she was used to since she had moved to the valley. She had knit herself two whole sweaters, and was working on a blanket now. She had watched so much Queen of Sauce she had begun to experiment with cooking. And she had read at least a dozen books, including at least two readings of Elliot’s novel, _Camellia Station._

The novel. 

The reading at the library. 

It had been the trigger to this whole anxiety spiral. The first frosts had just been settling over the valley when Elliott had sent her a letter, inviting her to a reading of his novel at the library. Gwen had been ecstatic to attend, immediately pushing off her afternoon plans of farm maintenance to the next day and instead spent the late morning cleaning herself up. The whole town was there when she had arrived a few minutes before the start of the event. Elliott had been incredibly nervous, but relaxed as he read, capturing everyone’s attention. He had made her blush terribly when he thanked everyone, especially her, and announced he had dedicated the book to her. 

She had felt foolish when she asked him to sign her copy and he did so with a flourish. She had read his inscription on the dedication page at least a dozen times now. The printed one read: “ _For Gwen, without whom this book would have been lost at sea.”_ But the personalized message, the one written in his perfectly loopy script, read: “ _Gwen, my muse, my confidant, my most cherished friend. You helped me bring this book to life better than my wildest dreams. I will be forever thankful. Yours, Elliott_.”

It was enough to drive Gwen crazy with anxiety. Did she imagine the similarities between herself and Clara, the main character, or had she simply talked to Elliott so much about the book she could pick out the details? Was there a different look in his eyes when they saw each other, sparsely, as of late? Or were they both just suffering in winter blues that any contact with another person made them feel less hopeless? 

Giving him this bouquet would undoubtedly change their relationship, for good or worse. Her last relationship had left her so broken she was still not mended. Elliott was different, but… was she really ready to throw away her friendship if he didn’t return her feelings? She couldn’t tell what was worse; facing rejection or stewing in silence forever. The bravery that possessed her earlier this morning was replaced with trembling hands and a knot tied in her throat. 

He was home. The light was on. She could just make out the sounds of a piano tune being played over the crash of the waves. She could retreat now like it had never happened, that she had never had the silly fantasy that he might return her affections, and he would never know. She was rooted in place for long enough that the cold was really starting to sink into her skin. Though it was late in the afternoon, the sun was so clouded over it felt like it would be dark soon. 

She needed to do this. She needed to know if there was any chance he felt the same, and if not, then she would force herself to be content with friendship. Gaining some nerve, she forced her stiff legs to walk down the beach towards his door. Elliott, she hoped, would at least let her down gently if he didn’t like her. 

Not wanting to burst in on him, she knocked politely at the door. The piano music stopped, floorboards creaked, and soon Elliott opened the door, his expression brightening a bit from a sad half-smile to one that at least reached his eyes. 

“Gwen! You look positively frozen, please come in,” he said, stepping aside so she could enter. He shut the door behind her and helped her out of her brown leather jacket, hanging it on a peg next to his own fine red wool coat. “To what do I owe the pleasure? It seems to be a miserable day for a casual walk.” 

Gwen’s face stung from the cold. While Elliott had the woodfire stove burning, it didn’t do much to keep the drafty cabin warm. She shivered a little, switching what hand she held the basket so the frozen fingers could be held between her arm and body to be rescued. “I, erm, I had something I wanted to give you, but…” She was studying his face now. His expression was not as joyful as perhaps he thought he was portraying. There was a sadness she could see in his glass green eyes. “Well, um, you seem… troubled.”

“I feel better now that I have some company,” he said, running his hands through his long auburn hair, draping it over one shoulder. “Would you like some tea?” 

“I… yes, a hot drink would be nice,” she answered. She resigned to sitting down on the piano bench, basket carefully tucked between her feet. “Really though, is it just the weather, or…?” 

His back was to her as he began to prep the tea. “I’m just feeling a little… morose today,” he began. “When the skies are grey like this, it really brings out the worst of my emotions.” 

He set the kettle on the stove to heat up before adjusting his desk chair so he could sit in it and face her. Elliott always dressed very well, but observing the number of layers he wore, Gwen could tell he was cold. His nose and fingers were slightly pink, a thick, blue scarf was wrapped around his neck, and he seemed to be wearing at least two layers of socks. “Well, I certainly am never in a good mood when I’m cold,” Gwen replied. “And I don’t mean to pry, but… there seems to be something else?” He had an uneasy look on his face, like he was ashamed. 

His smile was brief. “I suppose I am an open book then, especially with you… yes.” He sighed, crossing his legs. “I have felt… down, I suppose, ever since my book was published. The drive that I had for so long, the dream, it’s suddenly come true, almost too suddenly. I should feel excited, scribbling away on another one, but… all I can really feel is afraid of how uncertain the future is.” 

Gwen nodded. “I think that’s natural. You’ve worked really hard to accomplish a big goal. It’s sort of like you’re empty without another one.” 

The corners of his mouth twitched. “Empty, yes. That and the snow… this winter has been much more fierce than my first one in the valley. If I thought I felt lonely before, well…” His words drifted off into thought as he frowned, eyes not really seeing what was in front of him. “I don’t want to grow old as a hermit on this beach,” he finally admitted. 

Thankfully, Gwen’s attempt at trying to come up with a response was punctuated by the kettle screaming, and Elliott stood to pour them both tea. She felt even more horribly awkward now. Rejection would be even worse now, should it come, knowing that he longed for companionship. Perhaps it was better to not say anything today. 

He handed her a cup and saucer before sitting back down with his own. Gwen had always thought his fanciful tastes amusingly contradicted his spare living situation. At least he owned two tea cups. She wrapped her hand around the cup and set the saucer on top of the piano, thankful for the little bit of warmth for her fingers. 

“Elliott, I… I don’t believe that would happen,” she finally said, keeping her eyes on her tea. “You never know when things might change, and anyways, I wouldn’t believe you would be single forever.” 

She glanced up to gauge his reaction. He wasn’t really looking at her, and his expression had shifted to one of wry disbelieving. “That’s very kind of you to say, Gwen. It’s hard to imagine otherwise, given my current circumstances.” 

“Perhaps you just need a little change of perspective, then.” She gave him a smile. It tugged on her heart, seeing him this sad. “A warm home would certainly help. I know this place probably wouldn’t hold up to something extensive, but Marnie sells these great heaters. They’re for barns, but it might make it more bearable in here. And I have extra wood and time, I can certainly come help you patch this place up-”

“Gwen, I couldn’t ask that of you. You already work so hard, my problems shouldn’t overtake your work.” 

“Trust me, I’ve got the time,” she said, laughing a little before taking a drink of tea. “I think I’m going to go crazy if I watch one more Queen of Sauce episode.” 

“Well, I…” He sighed. “If you’re sure, I would be glad for the help. I’ll have to find a way to repay your kindness.” 

Gwen scoffed. “Elliott, I don’t offer so I can hold some sort of ‘you owe me’ over your head. I just want to help you be a little more comfortable.” She glanced out the window, then down at her watch. It was nearly five, and the snow was picking up. “Come on, let’s go now!” She chugged down the rest of her tea and stood, holding out a hand to him. “We might luck out and catch Marnie before she closes.” 

He let out a surprised laugh. “Gwen, you… oh, alright.” He finished his tea as well. “I suppose it’s an adventure then.” 

They hurried to put their boots and coats on, trying to race the storm. The snowflakes were much thicker and fluffier when they stepped out together onto the beach. Gwen frowned. “Weather report didn’t say it was supposed to get this bad.” 

“We will be swift then,” Elliott said, setting off at a brisk pace. Gwen followed slightly behind, frantically stuffing the scarf around the flowers so it wouldn’t accidentally fly off. The absolute last thing she needed now was him seeing the bouquet. It could wait for another day, or for never at all. 

They had nearly made it to the bridge crossing back into town before he asked, “Is that a newer sweater?”

  
Gwen blinked and looked down, having forgotten she was wearing the latest cable knit sweater she had finished. “Oh, yes. I made it.” 

“It’s delightful,” he said, his voice slowly warming back up to its usual cheer. “The color compliments you very well.” 

Gwen was glad her face was already red from the cold - perhaps he wouldn’t be able to tell she was blushing. “Thank you, Emily did a great job dying the wool I brought her.” 

They made the turn to the west towards the Cindersap and Marnie’s ranch. “We haven’t had much time together since the reading, but I must ask, have you read the rest of my book?” 

“I’ve read it twice, actually,” she admitted. “It’s wonderful, Elliott.” 

He coughed suddenly. “Twice? Really?” His voice came at almost a squeak. “I’m so flattered. You really like it that much?” 

“Of course I do.” She turned to see the flush and grin on his face, and had the overwhelming urge to grab his hand. She opted instead to grip the basket with both hands. “The fated meetings, Clara and Horatio slowly opening up to each other, and not to mention the prose itself is beautiful.” She let out a small laugh. “I have a few notes, of course. It isn’t perfect. But… I really do love it. I can’t wait to read whatever you write next.” 

“Thank you.” His voice was low. “It means a lot to me that you enjoy it so much. I look forward to whatever I write next as well.” 

Gwen’s stomach twisted at his tone, fleetingly thinking of how much more it would have affected her if he had spoken directly in her ear. 

During the half hour walk they spent getting to Marnie’s, the snow and wind had really picked up. Heads bowed and shivering, they pushed their way into the warm front room of her house. The little bell at the door tinkled, and Marnie appeared from the kitchen, flour on her shirt and hands. 

“Gwen! Elliott, what on earth are you doing out in a storm like this?” 

“Well, it wasn’t a storm when we left,” Gwen said, kicking snow off her boots near the front door. “You got any heaters left? Elliott’s place is freezing.” 

Marnie glanced between the two of them. Gwen tried to guess the meaning, but couldn’t before Marnie said, “I’ve got a few to spare, I think. If you give me a minute to check…” 

“How much are they?” Elliott asked hesitantly. 

“Two thousand gold,” Marnie said over her shoulder as she headed out to check her supplies.

When the door shut behind her, Elliott repeated her, the small amount of good humor he had built up gone. “Two thousand gold?” 

“I can get it for you,” Gwen burst out, unable to control herself. “You need it Elliott, I-”

“I couldn’t possibly let you,” he said, shaking his head. “I technically have the money, just… my budget will be tight for a while.” 

Gwen bit her lip. “You can pay me back, I know it’s a lot up front.” 

“Gwen, you are far too kind, I can’t-”

“All we’ve got are the large iron ones, but I’ve got three in stock,” Marnie said, reentering the house. “But with how hard it’s snowing, I don’t think you’ll be able to get it back, even if I get Shane to help you.” 

Elliott sighed, defeated. “I suppose I can make do-”

“Absolutely not,” Gwen said, cutting him off. “You’re going to freeze to death in that cabin without it. Marnie, can we pay for it now and pick it up later, maybe when there’s not a blizzard?” 

“Sure.”

Without thinking, Gwen started digging in her pockets for her wallet. Elliott placed a hand on her forearm to stop her. “Please, Gwen.” 

“Just pay me back later.” She shrugged him off her and pulled out the correct notes for Marnie, trying to ignore the stare Marnie gave them. Marnie accepted the money and walked to the cash register. Gwen glanced up at Elliott through her eyelashes to see him red in the face. She hoped he wasn’t angry with her, but really, he needed to take better care of his living space. Their mission partially accomplished, the two stepped back into the blizzard so they could speak in private. 

“You shouldn’t have done that for me,” Elliott said quietly. 

“And let you freeze? I think not.” Gwen tried to sound nonchalant while she rewrapped her scarf around her. “I told you, you can pay me back.”

They stood in the slightly sheltered entrance to the ranch house, watching the wind swirl the flakes with vigor. It was going to be dark far sooner than normal. 

“Come back to the farm with me.” Gwen didn’t realize at first she had spoken the words out loud until she had said them. “Just… it’s closer, and it’s warm. I have extra space.” 

“Does your generosity know any bounds?” Elliott mused. 

Gwen smiled a little. “Very few. Come on, it’s like a ten minute walk to the farm.” 

He sighed again. “You are terribly difficult to refuse, you know.” He stuffed his hands into his coat pockets and offered his elbow to her. Gwen carefully wrapped her hand around his arm, still able to feel the strong muscles that were beneath the many layers of fabric. She gulped, and shoulders pressed together for a little extra warmth, they braved the storm to the southern edge of Porter Farm. 

Gwen was thankful for her sense in leaving the heat on while she was out and about. The farmhouse was moderately warm when they entered. She kicked off her boots, dropped the basket on the counter next to the fridge, and padded over to the fireplace to get it lit. Her grey cat, Willow, woke up from her nap on the couch and mewed at her sleepily. Gwen scritched behind the cat’s ears before striking up a match. Behind her, she heard Elliott smacking the snow off his shoes out on the porch before shutting the door tight. Suddenly, Gwen realized he hadn’t been here in a long time, and never for more than a few hours, and that the house was very messy. Willow hadn’t helped with that, the ball of yarn for her current project scattered across the floor, leaving it a tangled mess. Gwen sighed as she began gathering and tidying her living space. 

“Can I be of assistance?” Elliott asked, and she turned to face him. He had hung up his coat near the door, and the melting snowflakes made his auburn hair glisten in the warm lights. The firelight, too, was painting dancing shadows across his beautiful, sculpted face. 

“I, erm, well I’ve just been messy,” she said, trying to untangle the yarn with little success. She had to yank it away from Willow as the cat began to bat at it. 

He gave her a good natured smile and crossed to her, picking up one of the blankets on the couch and beginning to fold it neatly. “Just tell me where I should put things. It’s the least I can do.” 

“Well, I, um, I’ll take these clothes up, and then if you’d like to help me with dishes?” He nodded in response, and Gwen began to frantically gather the socks, shirts, and hats that littered her couch. She took the stairs up to her room two at a time and threw the socks and shirts on to an overflowing laundry hamper, then slipped into the bathroom to do a quick clean. She really should have thought before inviting him out, or to stay with her, or any of it, really. Everything was such a mess from living sloppily, shut inside for days at a time. 

She got so caught up cleaning the bathroom that she completely lost track of time, and so half an hour later, she descended frantically. “I’m so sorry, I was cleaning and-”

“Don’t worry,” Elliott said, holding up a plate. “This is the last one. Again, helping to tidy up is just the start to repaying your generosity.” 

He was smiling at her, his hair pulled back, and Gwen’s heart warmed. Then her eyes shifted down to the little kitchen table between them, where the basket she had been carrying all day had been moved to, and the scarf on top clearly disturbed. Her pulse quickened as she looked between the basket and Elliott, at a complete loss for words.

His face flushed pink as he set the now dry plate down on the counter. “I thought perhaps you had gathered something I could put away in the fridge, I didn’t mean to pry,” he said gently. 

“I… umm…” Gwen took a hesitant step forward, lifting the wet scarf to see the damage. The flowers were mostly fine, just a few soggy petals and one of the fairy roses had been squished in all her activity. 

“Were you, erm, planning on selling them? I don’t think you can make it to Pierre’s in this weather,” Elliott said, his words stilted. 

“I… no, I… um…” Gwen’s face burned bright red. She couldn’t look at him, only slide the basket across the table towards him. “I got them for you.” She felt tears welling up in her eyes as she shut them. Obviously he was trying to play ignorant that they were for him. 

She heard his breath catch in his throat. “Really? Is this what you came out to my cabin to give me?” 

She looked back up at him, vision swimming with tears as they fell down her face. “Yes, but when I got there I… it just felt wrong, you were upset, and I…” Her words trailed off and she let out a sob. In a moment, Elliott crossed around the table and produced a handkerchief from a pocket. He handed it to her, hand gently closing around her fingers that weren’t busy wiping at her face. 

“Gwen, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you.” This close, she could feel his labored breathing. “I just didn’t want to assume. I had thought maybe you felt the way I do, but…” 

She looked up and met his gaze, his eyes a darker shade of green now that they were in the soft light of the farmhouse. “So you…?” She could hardly believe it. 

He released her hand to lift her chin a little further, and murmured, “Gwen, I am completely infatuated with you. I have been for a while, but I thought you might never…” He cleared his throat. “I thought perhaps you would want to be with someone a little closer to your own age.” 

Gwen frowned slightly as she tilted her head to the side. “Elliott, how old do you think I am?” 

He blushed. “Well, you mentioned university studies, then working at Joja… but I would guess no older than twenty-four?” 

She let out a short laugh. “Elliott, I’m twenty-seven.”

“O-oh, I… I suppose three years difference isn’t that dramatic then,” he sighed. His breath was warm on her face, smelling of the tea they had drunk earlier. “And you… you seemed so hurt when you told me about your ex, I didn’t want to push you.” 

“It sounds like you’re making excuses to not be with me,” Gwen said, a little more hurt than she intended to sound. 

“N-no, I just…” He took a deep breath. He had never been lost for words, even when they had gotten drunk together. “I care quite deeply about you. I didn’t want to ruin what we already had.” 

“Me neither.” Gwen shifted a little closer to him, daring to enjoy the heat coming from his body. “But I had to tell you before I burst. The anxiety of not knowing was driving me crazy.” He was so lovely to look at, skin flushed, a few strands of long hair hanging in his face. “I’m sorry the flowers are a little ruined.” 

“Nonsense.” His hand moved from her chin to cupping her cheek, and in a smooth motion, he pressed his lips to hers. 

Gwen responded without thinking, wrapping her arms around his neck, stretching up on her tiptoes to better meet him. His other arm snaked around her waist, pressing her against him as they kissed. Gwen’s fingers pulled his hair loose from its tie and entangled themselves in the auburn locks, and Elliott moaned into her mouth in response. She felt his hand tense on her back, as if he wanted to move it but was trying not to. They broke away for a moment, out of breath. 

Elliott rested his forehead against hers, thumb stroking her cheek. “I suppose this means you wish for me to be your… boyfriend?” He said the word like it was sour in his mouth. 

She couldn’t help but chuckle. “You don’t like that word?” 

“It’s very… unpoetic,” he admitted. 

“Is there another word you’d like to use?” she asked as he planted kisses slowly across her cheek and jaw. 

“Hmmm… I’ve always preferred _lover_ ,” he murmured against her skin, sending a thrill down her spine. “It rolls off the tongue better.” 

He captured her lips again with his, shuffling her until she backed into the kitchen table. She reached back and pushed herself up onto it, spreading her knees so he could press himself against her. His kiss was more passionate, more urgent this time, and Gwen could feel herself practically melting under his touch. 

“Elliott… I…” she breathed in between kisses, and he pulled away for a moment, gazing deep into her eyes. 

“Yes?” 

She blushed under his look. They were both breathing hard, Elliott’s hand still tense on her back. “I… erm…” She had to look down. “I’m just… happy, that’s all.” 

He kissed her forehead. “I am, too,” he admitted. “I… I am glad you had courage where I did not. Though, I do feel remiss in my duties as a gentleman in not asking you first.” 

She let out a light laugh and kissed the corner of his mouth. “I mean, you _did_ dedicate an entire novel to me. That’s more than enough.” 

He kissed her again. His lips looked more pink and slightly swollen now. “I don’t think it will be the last book I dedicate to you.” 

She pulled him in again, only breaking apart when Willow let out a very loud and needy meow. She laughed into Elliott’s mouth. “I suppose that means it’s approaching dinner time.” She pulled away from him, far enough that his cologne wasn’t as absolutely overwhelming to her senses. “Anything in particular you would like?” 

“Hmmm,” he said, running his fingers through her hair. “I’m not sure what you have in stock.” 

“Well, I think my terrible cellar doors are buried right now,” she replied, trying not to lose her train of thought. “But I’ve been fishing a lot. I’m sure I’ve got something you’ll like.” 

“Perhaps I will make something for you instead.” He gave her a little smile. “It is the least I can do. Oh!” His eyes lit up. “Speaking of your generosity-” He reached into his jacket’s inner pocket and drew out a few bills. “-I believe I owe you some money.” 

“Elliott, you don’t…” Gwen started, pausing at his eyebrow raising and him pushing the money into her hands. “...you’ll be mad at me if I refuse this, won’t you?” 

“I certainly won’t allow myself to take much more advantage of your kindness.” 

She blushed again. “You’re not taking advantage of me.” She bit at her lip before continuing. “I want you here. And not freezing cold. I would have offered even if I didn’t… if I didn’t have feelings for you.”

He pulled her into another deep kiss, one that she thought had frozen time and never wanted to leave. “Go relax,” he murmured against her lips. “I’ll cook us some dinner.” 

“Okay,” she responded, and with a sigh, he extracted himself from her. Gwen shivered at the sudden chill on her overheated skin. He gave her knee a gentle squeeze before stepping away and turning toward the kitchen. “Do you want help?” Gwen asked weakly. 

“I’m sure I can figure out your kitchen,” Elliott reassured her. “Please, you’ve done enough for me today. Let me do something for you.” 

Gwen pushed herself off the table, considering her options. The best one was to not hover over him, so she stole herself away to her room again, closing the door and breathing hard. Her heart was still beating harder than it had any right to. She ran her fingers over her lips, feeling the giddy smile. Perhaps things weren’t as bad as she thought they would be. Life before the farm had been very rough, downright awful at times. Even shortly after she moved, the struggle of taming the land, making new acquaintances, and the steep learning curve farming provided was overwhelming and isolating. Only in the past few months or so had she really felt like she could belong here in the valley, could see herself really turning this place into something extraordinary. 

Her eyes drifted around her room, still in a messy state. Looking at the bed, her mouth went dry, remembering the way Elliott’s breath had sent an anxious thrill through her. _Lovers…_ it seemed wrong now to offer up her bed to him and sleep on her couch. No, not wrong, just odd. Shouldn’t two people who liked each other share a bed? It would be warmer, at least. But sharing a bed carried expectations and innuendos that made Gwen’s stomach harden into a pit of nerves. Would he think she was moving too fast? Certainly, she had fantasized about it, but fantasies were vastly different from reality. The reality was that Gwen wasn’t sure if she could even go through with anything more than kissing Elliott right now. A wall of anxiety crashed over her, and she closed her eyes, breathing deeply. It was ok. Everything would be fine. 

It took a few minutes of deep, concentrated breathing to force herself back into a stable state. Opening her eyes again, Gwen decided to busy herself with cleaning up the bedroom to her best abilities. She shoved all her dirty clothing into the closet, made the bed, fluffed the pillows, and lit a stick of incense. It was better than nothing, since either way, Elliott would be sleeping here. Satisfied enough, Gwen descended again, noting the smell and sizzle of frying oil as she did. 

Elliott was busy in the kitchen, hair pulled back again and sleeves rolled up as he worked in the kitchen, stirring something in a bowl. There was a pan of oil heating on the stove. Elliott’s expression brightened when he turned and saw her. “Crab cakes!” he said, setting the bowl aside and brushing some errant flour off his shirt. “And a slaw with the preserves I found in the fridge. I hope that’s alright?” 

“Sounds great,” Gwen said, smiling. She wanted to ask again if he needed help, but he began digging through the drawer under the oven, pulling out a baking sheet, humming to himself. He seemed perfectly at home. Gwen instead fed Willow before sitting back down on the couch to untangle her yarn. It was odd, having someone in her home and not actively playing hostess to them. She tried to concentrate on fixing her project, focusing her energy to that now instead of fussing over Elliott. 

“So you said this winter isn’t as bad as last year?” Gwen asked, trying to make her own misgivings about their silence go away. 

“Oh yes,” Elliott replied, focused on forming the crab cakes now. “Willie said that I was terribly lucky last year. I managed with just my wood stove and layering. I was supposed to spend time this summer getting the cabin in better shape for winter but…” 

“Too busy writing?” 

“Among other things. My budget was a bit tighter until the advance from the publishing company came.” 

“Well, as soon as this storm is over, we’re going to fix it up in no time. I’m sure I can bribe Robin to help as well.” 

“I appreciate it.” 

Gwen couldn’t help but glance up at him every few seconds to watch. He had shed most of his layers, only in his trousers, shirt, and waistcoat now. The old-fashioned, _classical_ way he dressed had always made her giggle a little. She could never deny that the style didn’t completely fit him and his romantic nature. As he formed the last crab cake, he glanced over and caught her staring. She blushed and averted her eyes back down to her task. 

“Are my wrists too distracting?” he teased. “Am I showing too much skin?” 

“Absolutely,” Gwen quipped, feeling her face heat even more and turned away from him on the couch. She heard him chortle from the kitchen before he began frying. 

Soon the kitchen was filled with delicious smells, and Gwen’s stomach gurgled. She realized as she put the untangled, re-wound ball of yarn back safely into its project bag that she had entirely skipped lunch. She got up and set the table, pushing the sleeves of her sweater up to her elbows. It was plenty warm in here now, almost unpleasantly so, from the stove, fireplace, and heating system all going at the same time. She opened the bottle of blueberry wine that had been awaiting a perfect moment to be drunk since she had made it during the summer. Elliott plated up the food, and they soon sat across from each other at the little kitchen table, complexions warmer and smiles on their faces. 

They ate quietly for a few minutes; Gwen was too hungry to engage in anything else. After eating her way through half her meal, she finally said, “Elliott, this is awesome.” 

“I’m glad you like it,” he replied, a slight blush on his cheeks. “It’s one of my favorites.” 

“Well, whatever you did, it’s great.” 

“Next time, I’ll have to get some of the proper spices for them, I just made do with what you had.” He refilled his now empty wine glass. “This wine is exceptional. I haven’t had this at Gus’s before.” 

“That’s cuz I made it.” Gwen took another sip of her own drink. “I had tons of blueberries this summer. I’ve got a lot of wine out of them.” 

“A rare vintage then,” he said, a sly smile on his face. “I do hope I might buy some from you in the future.” 

“I’ve got a whole bunch going to Gus, soon as I can dig my way out to my roots cellar. But I think I can spare a few bottles for you.” 

Gwen returned to her food, savoring the crispy exterior of the crab cakes. It struck her just how… normal all of this felt. Elliott across from her at the table, chatting merrily about no particular topics. Willow asleep again in front of the fire. Their own little bubble of warmth, sheltered from the storm outside. 

She didn’t want it to ever end. 

The night was still young when they finished eating and cleaning up the kitchen. As Gwen put away the last dry plate, she said, “Well, now’s the part where I just… watch TV and knit until I’m tired.” It sounded terribly lame, like she was elderly. People her age went out and did things on the weekends, especially in the city. But in the valley, what else was there to do? 

“I thought you wouldn’t be able to stomach another episode of Queen of Sauce?” Elliott asked, wagging his eyebrows at her. 

“I mean, I’ve got some old movies on VHS. Grandpa’s setup is ancient, and I haven’t really had the time to update it.” She led him over to the bookcase next to the old, boxy television. One shelf was dedicated to her small VHS collection, mostly cobbled together from second hand stores in Zuzu city and ones that were already here. “Take your pick.” 

It didn’t take long for Elliott to pull out the only tape she thought would interest him - a very well-loved copy of _Superbia and Prepossession_ , the version that had come out at least two decades ago now. 

“My gran’s favorite,” Gwen said quickly when Elliott raised an eyebrow at her. 

“Oh really?” he asked, a grin spreading on his face. “Have you seen it?” 

_Only dozens of times._ “A few times,” she replied airily. “I assumed you’d go for it.” 

“I’m not one for book adaptations, but this one is particularly good.” He gave her one final look of knowing before working on getting the movie started. With a small huff, Gwen sat back down in her usual spot on the left side of the couch, arranging herself and her project. The blanket was already quite big, draping fully over her lap as she got to work, hardly checking the pattern except to tick off little marks to count the rows. Elliott finally sat down beside her on the couch after turning off the kitchen light and started the movie. 

It was difficult at first for Gwen to focus on listening to the movie, or doing the correct stitch pattern. Elliott was awkwardly in the middle of the couch, giving her a respectful few inches of space, but certainly not comfortable. Should she just lean into him? Was that too much? Next to her, Elliott stretched and laid his arm on the back of the sofa behind her. He glanced down at her, and Gwen gave him a small smile. Slowly, he draped his arm around her and pulled her to him. Her shoulders relaxed under his touch, unaware of how tense they had been until they were warmed by him. 

The movie passed in quiet comfort, Gwen trying not to be distracted by the woody smell of his cologne or how he occasionally reached up to run his fingers through her hair. She simply enjoyed sitting there, snuggled into his side, listening to the slow burn romance between Eliza and her Mr. Darrington while she knit row after row. Elliott interrupted her only a few times, mostly to ask her about what she was making, or to comment on a particularly good piece of dialogue, or just to press a small kiss onto her head. 

The movie finished, and they were quiet while Gwen finished out her row. Pleased with her progress, she stuffed away the blanket back in its bag. 

“You are amazingly quick at that,” Elliott commented. “I admit I was quite mesmerized by it.” 

“I’d better be fast by now, it’s basically all I’ve done all winter.” She turned back to him, trying to riddle out his expression. The only light now was from the fireplace. He reached the hand not around her shoulders to her face, gently stroking her face. Gwen’s breath hitched, the contact burning hot. 

“I erm, I tidied up my room for you,” she muttered, having difficulty getting the words out. “I figured you could sleep there, you’re a bit tall for the couch.” 

He frowned slightly. “Gwen, I would not turn a lady out of her own bed.” 

“Trust me, it’ll be much better than the couch.” 

He was still frowning, eyebrows pushing together. He looked… apprehensive? “Would you be opposed to… sharing?” 

His fingers froze on her cheek, and the direct eye contact they shared made her blush. “I just… if you want to,” she breathed. “It’ll be warmer, at least.” 

“I didn’t want to presume.” His breath tickled her nose. Feeling possessed with bravery again, she leaned forward to close the gap between them. His hands found their way to her back, pulling her even closer to him. Gwen found herself swinging a leg over his to straddle him, kisses building in heat and chests pressed together so tight they might as well be melding into one body. Elliott groaned when Gwen’s fingers gently tugged at his hair. His lips left her mouth for her jaw and neck, still making deep, needy noises that filled Gwen’s body with heat as he did. 

He found a sensitive spot on her neck and her breath caught in her throat, only able to stutter out his name in response. She felt him smile against her skin. “Perhaps,” he said in between the trail of kisses along her throat, “we should go somewhere more comfortable?” 

“S-sure,” she replied, shivering a little as his kisses made it back up to her lips. She took a few moments to catch her breath before she clambered off the couch. Mind hazy, she snuffed the fire, checked the front door was shut tight, and made sure the heater was at a reasonable temperature. Elliott stood waiting for her at the foot of the stairs, backlit by the stairway light. She led him upstairs, stomach twisting with fear and excitement and self-consciousness, pushing her to take the stairs almost at a jog. She heard him chuckle quietly behind her. 

It felt terribly suggestive, leading him into her room like this. Even the lingering scent of lavender from the spent incense wasn’t enough to really calm her as the door was closed. They stood a few feet from each other, eyes locked. Perhaps it was just the lighting, but Elliott’s eyes seemed a few shades darker, and the look of longing was plain. Gwen felt as though she couldn’t swallow, that the electricity between them would keep her locked here forever gazing at this dashing man. 

“Elliott, I…” It was hard to articulate the words. He patiently waited for her to collect herself. “I don’t want to… I mean, I do, but I… I can’t. Right now.” Her eyes finally fell to watching the floor instead. 

“Of course.” His voice was warm, soothing. Relieved, she looked up at him again. “Gwen, whatever pace you’re comfortable with… that’s fine by me.” He took hesitant steps towards her before wrapping her into a hug. 

“You sure?”

His chest rumbled with quiet laughter. “Yes, Gwen. All I want is the pleasure of your company. It doesn’t matter how we spend it.”

She nodded. They held each other for a few more moments before she said, “I, um, I’m going to get ready for bed. I’ve got some old clothes that might fit you, if you want something more comfortable.” 

“I could give it a try,” he replied shrewdly. 

He released her and Gwen set to pulling out sweats and hoodies that could work for either of them. She held out one from her college days to him, a purposely large hoodie whose logo was faded from many, many washings. 

“I think my sweats will be a little short for you, but try on whatever, I’m going to go change.” 

In the brighter light of the bathroom, Gwen noted her slightly swollen lips, the red marks along her neck. This whole thing felt like a dream. A very good one, but a dream nonetheless. She took her time changing, brushing her teeth, washing her face. She didn’t want to accidentally walk in on him changing. When she returned, she couldn’t help but giggle at Elliott wearing the most casual, sloppy clothes she had ever seen him in. Her sweats were at least six inches too short for him, and a little tighter around the thigh than when she wore them. 

“Am I still charming?” he asked with his own laugh. “I admit I haven’t worn something so terrible casual in years.” 

“What do you normally sleep in then?” 

“Much less than this,” he said with a smirk.

“Well no wonder you’ve been so cold out there,” Gwen teased, trying to keep her mind off of picturing him in his own bed with very little clothing. 

“I don’t know how you’ll persuade me to leave such a warm home.” 

“Well, if the storm keeps up, I certainly insist on you staying.” 

With another kiss, they climbed into the bed together, snuggled under several heavy blankets. It was much warmer with Elliott beside her, and Gwen was shocked at how much more ease she felt. Bundled up, Gwen turned to face him, just seeing the glint of his eyes in the near pitch darkness. 

“How am I supposed to sleep when such beauty lies beside me?” he mused quietly, brushing strands of hair out of her eyes. “I might just stay up all night writing.” 

“You can if you want.” 

He chuckled and pressed a kiss to her forehead. “Maybe tomorrow. If you’re serious about letting me stay here through the storm.” 

“Why wouldn’t I be serious?” 

“I don’t know how much help I’ll be with your farmwork.” 

“I don’t really need help, but I appreciate the thought. It’s mostly just tending to the animals at this point, not much to do until the wine and beer are both done fermenting.” 

He nodded and slipped an arm around her waist. Gwen snuggled against him. Content spread through her mind as they laid there, lulled to sleep by each other's heartbeats. The last thing Gwen remembered thinking was how terribly wonderful this felt, and that she wished he would never leave her bed. 

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Shout out to my BFF for helping me name this. If you enjoyed, drop me a kudo or comment! Should I write more? Thank you for reading :D


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